Each man lived his own life, and paid his own price for living it.

I love scandals about other people, but scandals about myself don’t interest me. They have not got the charm of novelty.

Each of us has Heaven and Hell in him.

It is only shallow people who require years to get rid of an emotion. A man who is master of himself can end a sorrow as easily as he can invent a pleasure. I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.

I am sick of women who love one. Women who hate one are much more interesting.

The dead linger sometimes.

I asked her whether, like Marguerite de Navarre, she had their hearts embalmed and hung at her girdle.he told me she didn't, because none of them had had any hearts at all.

You come down here to console me. That is charming of you. You find me consoled, and you are furious. How like a sympathetic person!

I have no terror of Death. It is the coming of Death that terrifies me.

"Being adored is a nuisance. Women treat us just as humanity treats its gods. They worship us, and are always bothering us to do something for them."
"I should have said that whatever they ask for they had first given to us," murmured the lad gravely. "They create love in our natures. They have a right to demand it back."

"I believe in the race," she cried.
"It represents the survival of the pushing."
"It has development."
"Decay fascinates me more."
"What of Art?" she asked.
"It is a malady."
"Love?"
"An illusion."
"Religion?"
"The fashionable substitute for Belief."
"You are a sceptic."
"Never! Scepticism is the beginning of Faith."
"What are you?"
"To define is to limit."
"Give me a clue."
"Threads snap. You would lose your way in the labyrinth."

I am tired of myself to-night. I should like to be somebody else.

— Why is it that I cannot feel this tragedy as much as I want to? I don't think I am heartless.

Don't talk about horrid subjects. If one doesn't talk about a thing, it has never happened.

I remember your saying once that there is a fatality about good resolutions—that they are always made too late. Mine certainly were.

One's days were too brief to take the burden of another's errors on one's shoulders.